Blood on an Angel's Wings
by Rezurii-chan
Summary: After Walter commits suicide, an angel, summoned by the completion of the Holy Assumption, gives him the power he needs to finish the 21 Sacraments. Is she more to him than he thinks she is? Or is she doing her duties? OC
1. The Angel and the Devil

Aren't I just the suxors

Aren't I just the suxors? All these original characters…tsk tsk. Ok, well I was bored and decided to write a wee Silent Hill fanfic with Walter! I don't own Silent Hill or any of its characters. Yay!

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She was in a forest. She wasn't quite sure why she was there, or how she got there in the first place, but she was there. She was sitting by a large, strange-looking rock, taking in her surroundings. Her curly brown hair fell onto her pale shoulders with each turn of her head. Her eyes held a mysterious shimmer and appeared to be the color of wilting vegetation, though much more alive. Her only clothing was a long, white, cotton dress that dragged the ground as she walked along the path.

She was convinced there were no humans around until, suddenly, two young children emerged from a rusty metal gate behind her, causing her to turn. The two children, holding hands, stopped in their little playful stroll and stared at this pretty woman half-fearfully. Seeing these small humans, the woman's soft lips curled into a grin and she slowly approached them, being sure not to appear threatening. At last, she squatted before them and smiled warmly, looking between their faces.

"And what are two children doing in a forest all alone?" She purred.

"P-Playing…" One of them replied, looking up at her bashfully.

"A forest is a dangerous place for children to be all by themselves. Where are your parents?"

The two children looked at each other and frowned. Maybe she wasn't from the Order after all. With an unspoken agreement that this woman meant no harm, they finally told her, "We're orphans. We live in Wish House."

They pointed behind them to the unseen orphanage. The woman looked in the direction they were pointing and searched the trees thoughtfully. She stood slowly and gave a nod of understanding. The children suddenly looked up at her in desperation. She was an adult. She could go there and tell _him_ that they were out here without permission. Then he would beat them.

"Oh, please don't tell on us! He didn't give us permission to go out and play so he doesn't know we're even out. But…God gave us permission!"

"God?" She looked down at the innocent creatures with interest now. What did they know of God?

"Yes…the scriptures tell us so! God protects us! We…we learned about the descent of the Holy Mother!"

The woman was confused now. The Holy Mother? Descent of the Holy Mother? What did they mean? Her brow furrowed, but something told her not to ask them. She had something else she needed to do. She shook the questions from her head and smiled down at the children.

"I won't tell. I promise. Now, can you two tell me where there's a graveyard?"

"You mean the one near Wish House?"

"Yes…"

The children gave her directions and she thanked them and swore 3 more times not to tell 'him' that she had seen them. None of the people guarding the orphanage saw her, but the children did. They all watched her as she moved quietly through the muddy yard to the northwest door. She smiled at them gently and they'd smile back. A couple tried to follow her but she told them to go back to the orphanage; they couldn't come with her. She walked two more trails through the dismal forest before she reached the small cemetery. She had at last reached her destination.

Various souls wandered the graveyard, oblivious as to why they existed in this plane. However, the woman was looking for one in particular. She walked among the graves, glimpsing the headstones and almost giving up when she remembered the free-roaming spirits. Then, she saw one sitting in front of their grave marker, staring down at the freshly placed soil. She approached him warily and smiled as she saw the name on the headstone. He looked up as she stood beside him, casting a shadow over him. His green eyes were shiny and curious as they examined her face.

"Hello, Walter."

"Who are you?"

"Leslie. You summoned me, didn't you?"

"I…don't think I did."

"Did you complete the Holy Assumption?"

"Yes."

"Then, you summoned me, my dear."

Walter Sullivan stared at the beauty before him in confusion. How had he summoned something by killing himself? He stood slowly and looked down at her. She had an ethereal look to her. What was she? Why had she come to him? Walter had never read about anything about this. Carefully, he asked her, "What are you exactly?"

"Me? Why, I'm an angel, silly."

Walter looked at her skeptically, arching a dark brow at her. She frowned at his look and looked herself over in confusion. At last she looked a bit flustered and suddenly beautiful, black-tipped, white wings sprouted from her shoulder blades and spread out majestically. Walter's look faded and he stared at the wings in awe. They folded and the woman before him looked up at him, appearing to be a little embarrassed.

"Sorry about that. I don't really expose my wings very often."

"You're a real angel, then?"

"Of course I am. Before you ask, I've come to assist you in completing the 21 Sacraments."

"Assist me? But you-"

"I can't _kill_ anybody, but I'll make sure it's a bit easier for you to."

She smiled at him gently and took is hand. Suddenly, they weren't in the dank cemetery anymore. They were in a void, a black void. Walter looked around in confusion and looked to Leslie questioningly.

"This is your canvas. Make your world how you want it to be; whatever's the most convenient place to kill your final 10 victims. Change it as often as you want. I'm always there when you need me."

She smiled and kissed his stubbly cheek before dissipating, leaving Walter alone to create his macabre masterpiece. A crazed smile played on his lips as he began thinking up his worlds on a whim. With a sadistic laugh, he said into the chilly air, "Just a little longer, Mother."

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Wow. That is possibly the shortest chapter I've ever done. Holy jeez! Okay…anyways...I'm done for right now…might start Ch. 2 tomorrow. Review for the love of all that is sanct! Or Walter'll hunt you in your sleep.


	2. The Demise of Victim 12

Hey cool, it's chapter 2 you guys!! Yaaaay! Ok, I didn't exactly start this yesterday…but I tried! Ok…no I didn't. That was a lie. I'm sorry. Anyways, I don't own Silent Hill. Though, if I did…I would drive a Ferrari and wouldn't be writing this story in the first place.

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Leslie sat on the roof of South Ashfield Heights, looking into the apartment window diagonal from her. A man sat at his kitchen island, writing vigorously and occasionally shuffling through some papers next to him. The angel watched him curiously, only partially knowing why this bright journalist was going to die. It was only a matter of time before Walter killed him and moved on to the Four Atonements. It was almost a shame that such a brilliant mind would be going to waste.

She then stood, turning her attention away from apartment 302's window, and walked in the opposite direction, heading for the alleyway where (soon-to-be) victim 12 usually was with his friends. She leaped the large gap between buildings like it was but a few feet and landed gracefully on the next rooftop. The angel's ears picked up the sound of laughter and her nose caught the scent of drug-produced smoke. She grimaced at the smell and it only got stronger as she approached the edge of the building. Quietly, she sat down and stared down into the small alley below.

Peter Walls and his friends were hidden in the shroud of darkness the alleyway provided, smoking marijuana as they usually did. The teenagers were talking with somewhat of a slur and laughing like idiots. Leslie found drunks stumbling home from the bar to be more amusing; this was just sad. With an annoyed sigh, she watched the stoned teens continue their merrymaking, one occasionally too high to notice where he was going and walking into the brick wall at her feet. She merely shook her head and wondered if the police ever tried looking down these cramped alleys, like they were supposed to.

"Hey! What's up there?"

Leslie's attention turned to Peter as he looked up the metal ladder across from her. His friends laughed at him, clearly seeing nothing at the top of the ladder. Peter approached the ladder and hopped onto the bottom rung, staring intently at the top of the ladder. With a determined voice that didn't even slur he told his friends, "Dude! It's like God!"

The angel watched him climb the ladder and so did his friends and then he disappeared. His friends didn't know where he went, but she did. His disappearance was her cue to leave. All had gone as planned so she whisked herself away to the world that Walter had made. However, she was in the same exact spot when she arrived. This was the part of the world that he had made identical to South Ashfield. It held every building, but not every building was accessible. No, only the buildings that Walter was most familiar with. This was because Walter's world contained almost every place he had been in his life, including the hospital he had been taken to after Frank Sunderland had found him in apartment 302.

With a heavy sigh, the angel made her way to Walter, who was most assuredly in Hotel South Ashfield somewhere. As she reached said hotel's roof, two monsters jumped down from the stairs in front of her. They were, it appeared, a mixture of a human, a gorilla, and a cougar. Their skin was grey and decaying and one had excessive amounts of muscle exposed. However, she wasn't afraid of them. She merely stood there as they looked her over and approached her, walking on their knuckles. She patted them on their bald heads and the cougar head protruding from their chests gave a small, content, purring noise. She smiled and made her way inside the building, ignoring the slug creatures on the walls as she walked. She heard Peter's desperate pleas as she stopped outside the hotel room and she waited, listening to the scene within. She heard Walter say something and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and waiting for the tortured cry to erupt from the room like some kind of twisted siren. There was a wet, ripping noise and the victim screamed for 4 seconds before he stopped making any noise at all. She heard an uneven thud as his body fell to the floor and waited, knowing Walter had to carve '12/21' somewhere.

Suddenly, the hall was spinning erratically and her shoulder blades burned painfully. Her wings emerged and began to pulse and she screamed, screamed from the terrible pain ripping into her delicate wings. She fell to her knees as she screamed, tears of pain streaming down her face. The black on the tips of the feathers began to move up slowly, as though some invisible fire was burning the white away. Slowly, the pulsing stopped and Leslie let herself fall to the floor. She lay on the floor in a heap, her partially black wings twitching in shock from the intense pain they had just undergone. The door opened and there was Walter, blood splattered on his blue coat, curiosity filling his green eyes. The angel didn't care. She just laid where she was and sobbed, her wings incredibly sore.

"What happened?"

She didn't answer him, continuing to sob as she finally caught a glimpse of her tainted wings. Walter looked her over and stared at the two-toned feathers curiously. He gently helped her to her feet and watched as her wings disappeared, the spot where the stalks were leaving angry, red marks on her back. Then, he noticed her trembling against him, hadn't even noticed she had been so close to his body. It startled him and he almost moved away from her, but then he realized he was the only thing keeping her on her feet at the moment.

"I…I'm losing my purity. I was a door away from a murder and I didn't prevent it." She whimpered against his coat, not caring that Peter Wall's blood was smearing on her face and matting in her eyelashes.

"Can you walk?"

"No. I-I don't think so."

Walter scooped her up and carried her through the hall, until at last they came to a large hole in the wall. Leslie had forgot he had made these holes, the pathways between different parts of the world. He sat her down by the hole and looked her over in an unsure manner, the uncertainty showing on his pale face. At last, he crawled in the hole and the angel felt fear rise in her chest. She was far too weak to leave this area on her own and now Walter was abandoning her here?

"Give me your hands." His steady voice echoed in the depth of the hole and she looked up, seeing him staring down at her with his own hands outstretched.

She complied and he pulled her into the hole with him, holding her tight against his chest as he pulled them through the tunnel with his free arm. She felt embarrassed, being this weak and helpless. She feared that it made her look dependent on others and she didn't want that. But, she was in a dark tunnel. No one could see her, not even Walter. So, she let him pull her along with him, listening to his laboring breaths as they reached the end of the tunnel. He left the hole and pulled her out before carrying her again. This was a place Walter had created specifically as a sanctuary. There were no monsters and it was clean. It was almost like room 302, except it had a few more rooms and wallpaper.

Walter took Leslie to her bedroom and set her down on the bed carefully, trying not to brush the 'burns' on her back. He stood there quietly, watching her adjust herself and roll over on her side and wished he had had more in his life when he was alive. But, beggars can't be choosers.

"Thank you for doing that." She said softly, staring up into his eyes. That frightened him a little and he broke the gaze, looking over at the wall.

"I wasn't going to just leave you there like that. Someone might have found you."

She chuckled and stared at him in amusement. He gave the excuses of a child, but he hardly had the appearance of one. Had she been a human, he would have intimidated her. Even in death, his eyes were strange and held a malignant sparkle that tore into your soul and haunted your dreams. But, he was harmless as a housefly to her.

He left her and went to his own room, sitting on the bed and staring at his feet. Even in the privacy of his own room, the angel diseased his thoughts, diseased his sleep. She wasn't afraid to look him in the eye, not like everyone else. She wasn't intimidated by who he was. Hell, she didn't even _care_ who he was. She was different from them. He was Walter Sullivan. He killed 10 people in 10 days. He had become world-renowned. And that pretty ethereal lady didn't care a bit. He _amused_ her, like he was some kind of little puppet. But, she didn't use him. She treated him well, in fact.

"Enough thinking." He murmured.

No, the thinking could wait another day. He felt exhausted. It was odd how he tired and how she tired. He was dead and she…was an angel. But, powers had their limits, he guessed. So, he laid down on his bed and went to sleep almost instantly, not wanting anymore thoughts to invade his thought process and halt his actions once more.

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Well, there's your chapter 2. Happy with it? I hope so. I am. )


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